Souvenirs You Never Lose
by gostlcards
Summary: "It's only grazed"; but grazes still need to be looked at. Emma/Charming, a bit of Snowing.


One-shot, inspired by that brief, concerned exchange at the diner about David's wound (tumblr gif sets! *shakes fist*). Title taken from the Goo-Goo Dolls "Name."

* * *

"You're still bleeding."

She says it gently, it's barely more than a whisper, but Emma hears Mary's soft murmur near her father's ear and jerks her head in their direction. David's glare is soft as he looks at his wife, but it's still there, and she rolls her eyes, pushing herself up as she throws her back pack to the seat and begins to dig through it.

"Snow, it's just a graze..."

He's started to call her Snow again, strangely enough, and Emma isn't really that bothered by it, which is more strange. It's happened more recently, under the shadow of all the serious things that have gone on with their family. They'd been using their Storybrooke names all this time, hoping it would aid in a smoother transition, and so Emma has to suspect that her calling them by something other than their names in the mines, may have something to do with it. That, and he seems a bit irritated at the moment, which could be another.

"I still want to get it wrapped. Take your shirt off."

She receives another dirty look for that direction. "Why? We're on a pirate ship, there's no medical equipment..."

"Stop being a stubborn ass, and take off your damn shirt."

"And we actually do, mate." Hook drawls from his spot above them at the wheel, an amused grin on his face as he's been listening to the bickering for the past few minutes. The interruption earns him looks of incredulity from not only the Charming's, but Regina and Gold as well, to which he shakes of with a scoff. "A land with medicine far beyond out means? Not all of us can heal ourselves with a wave of our glowing hand." He saunters down the stairs to the deck with his usual ire. "There's a few kits below deck that I nabbed. I'll show you down, if you'd like."

Begrudgingly, David rises to follow his wife, who mumbles her thanks to the pirate, and Emma follows as well, not wanting to be left alone with Gold or Regina. David settles down on the bench with a grumble, working at the buttons of his shirt as Hook shows Snow where the bandages and antiseptic could be found.

Emma sits silently in the corner. She's not really sure why she'd rather be down here during this than up on deck, but she supposes, ever since everything has happened, she feels safe in her parent's presence. She guesses, too, that she's also worried about him, although she tries not to let it show. Hook winks at her as he bounds back up to the deck to give them some privacy, and Emma can't help but frown as she see's David wince as he peels of the shirt and sits in his undershirt.

He's never walked around the apartment before shirtless. She chalks it up to the modesty he probably exhibited by being a Prince or whatever, but she thinks about how she's never seen him this bare.

She can see the other scar tissue bubbled under the thin fabric. Her head begins to swim and she tries to quiet the gasp.

He smiles at her from across the cabin, touched by what he's mistaken as concern. "It's just a scratch, Em, it'll be fi-OW! Gods, Snow, that _burns_!"

"Stop being a child. If there's anything I have from our lives in Storybrooke, it's the knowledge of what an infection can do. And we need you too much right now for that to happen."

She works at cleaning the wound, ignoring the grimace and hems and haws that elicit from her husband. She shakes her head, quipping at him as he complains and Emma even laughs a time or two. Snow wraps it and stands back, pronouncing him fit for duty. Despite all his complaints through the process, he pecks her lips and she tells him she will grab him a fresh shirt-that she's packed an extra couple outfits for them, stuffed in that pack, fabric now saved from being used as a bandage. She ascends the stairs and he begins to inspect her handiwork as Emma strolls over, smiling softly.

"She did a good job."

He grins back up at her. "Not her first time patching me up."

"I can believe that." Her smile fades. "You have quite a few other scars to match."

His grin falters, but he recovers quickly with a shrug, trying to remain pleasant. "I didn't become proficient with a sword without practice."

Or experience, she thinks to herself. She settles next to him, eyes zeroed on one she can see, pink flesh risen above his shoulder. It's strange, she guesses; with everything that's happened, she hasn't even thought of her parents as royalty, as ruling a kingdom, as taking it back with force. She almost laughs at the idea, and thinks to herself, this is what it's like, to belong to someone; how a child cannot imagine their parents lives before they were a part of it.

"What? You don't think I'm good with a sword?"

"No, no, I have no problem with that..." She shakes her head. "It's just...it's still all surreal. Even after everything. Sometimes it's so...so easy, to get but then I'm hit with it again." She shrugs, leaning forward on her elbows. "You don't get scars like that in that other world so casually, I guess."

"Would you like to hear about it?" He asks softly, wanting to make her feel more at ease. When she doesn't say no, he continues. He points to his lower right side. "Battle of Riesig - the forests where the Giants once dwelt, a decisive battle against..." He nods up toward the top of the deck, and Emma grins.

He pulls up his shirt a little, showing a mark upon his ribs. "Ogre." He laughs as Emma's expression turns disgusted, and he remembers the story Snow had relayed to him upon their return to Storybrooke. He let his shirt drop, his palm touching his thigh. "Fell off a horse-my own damn fault, admittedly." A touch to his right bicep. "The last battle that we won, at King George's palace." He smiles, and finally, touches his chin. "A bandit with a rock."

Emma laughs out loud at that, having read the stories in the book, and he grins along with her. When it fades from her lips, the smile remains, growing soft, and she nods towards his torso. "And those?" Her hand ghosts over his shoulder, then to his side where the outline of an almost fatal reminder can be seen, and this time, the smile absolutely falls from his face as he just stares at her, very serious now. He doesn't say anything.

She breaks the gaze first, turning it to the floor. She's read the book; she's seen it, in her head, the book _showed_ her. He knows it too, so an explanation isn't needed. She speaks after a moment, clearing her throat first.

"Don't you ever regret any of it? The battles, and almost dying, for this? I mean, it seems like you guys don't ever get a break to enjoy it..."

She's surprised that it's laughter that breaks the silence. It's a rather serious question, something she thinks that anyone would consider, so his amused expression confuses her. He turns his body a little so he's facing her more.

"I have never regretted any of it." He begins. "I thought that was clear enough." He takes her hand in his own, using his free one to tuck her hair behind her ears, the events of the day before making him much more comfortable with how he interacts with her. "Emma, pain fades away. And wounds...well, thankfully, all mine have healed, one way or another. The things that remain after that, the things that we fight for-freedom, and for what is right, and for love, the people we love, the people we would die to protect," Tears spring to her eyes. "It's worth every moment of it. The people I love, are worth every moment of it. I'll never regret that. And every time I see my scars, I remember that. And I treasure them."

He presses a kiss to her forehead, because he can see her eyes shining at him, and smooths her hair as he pulls back. "We may earn a few more along the way, although I can't say yours will be as plentiful with Snow and I by your side. But I think that you, too, will find yourself feeling the same."

Without speaking, she nods, not trusting speech now, and he smiles, pulling her in for a side hug and another, quick peck to the side of her head. "See. We have some things in common after all."

She barks a laugh. "I'm learning that more and more every day." She looks up at him, somber. "Thanks for telling me your stories, Dad."

Now that they're not in imminent danger, the moniker feels foreign on her tongue. All the more reason to use it, she thinks. She needs him to _know_.

He swallows the lump that finds it's way in his throat. "I am happy to." He nods up the stairs. "Go on up, I'll be there in a second."

She passes Snow on her way up, and she can tell by the look that is on her face, that she has heard the entire thing; Emma suspects the reason it has taken her so long to return with a single shirt has something to do with that. Emma offers an easy smile and squeezes her arm, jogging up the last few steps. Snow hits the landing of the cabin, a wistful expression gracing her features as she looked at her husband.

"That sounded nice." Her voice is warm and low as she hands him the shirt. He places it to the side, leaning back as she lowers herself onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kisses her easily, but doesn't take it too far; he doesn't want anyone walking in on them, lest of all Emma once again, and knows they will have all night for Snow to make up for the pain she has inflicted on him tonight once everyone turns into their respective bunks. When he tells her that, she laughs at him. "You're such a baby." She chides huskily.

"But I'm yours."

She smiles, kissing him again. "You're mine." She says, pulling back. "No regrets?"

"Never." He breathes. "She likes me."

She shook her head with a chuckle. "Silly man. She _loves_ you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she does." A voice came from above, startling them both. "Are you two coming, or are you going to leave your poor, defenseless daughter to the wolves?"

His eyes light up at the admission, but he tries to play it off. "Eavesdropping. We should ground her."

"You'll earn yourself another souvenir." She stands up, backing away from him as he grabs the shirt. He lightly smacks her on the backside as she walks away, and she scowls at him playfully before climbing back up to the deck.

It would be worth it, like all the others, he thinks to himself, shrugging on his shirt and beginning to button it. His girls.

His _family_.

They will always be worth it.


End file.
